


Wonderwall

by fandammit



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AU: High School Reunion, AU: We were rivals in HS, Callie: eventual Kabby shipper, F/M, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-09-22 06:12:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9587501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandammit/pseuds/fandammit
Summary: His hair had grown out, long and curled at the ends, a loose strand falling across his forehead in a way that was almost boyish. There was a thick beard covering half his face, trimmed enough to be groomed but still rougher than what she might’ve expected from him. She watched as he laughed, genuine and carefree in a way he’d never been when she knew him, and ran a hand down his beard. The movement was abruptly, inexplicably appealing to her; she shook her head, trying to clear it.Suddenly, he looked past the figure standing before him and met her eyes from across the room. He looked taken aback, eyes wide with surprise; then, the corner of his mouth lifted in an uncertain half-smile and he raised a hand, his fingers twitching awkwardly as he waved to her.---------Marcus Kane and Abby Griffin: former high school rivals, potential hottest hookup of the 20 year reunion. Modern AU.





	1. Today is gonna be the day

Abby looked around the room, her eyes scanning the crowd of late 30 somethings gathered at tables and crowded at the bar. The last few bars of a Gin Blossoms song faded out, quickly replaced by the opening notes of Alanis Morissette’s “Ironic.” The corners of her mouth tugged up slightly.

“See?” Callie said, smiling at Abby over the rim of her wine glass. “You’re having fun already.”

She raised her eyebrow.

“This song makes me feel nostalgic. I wouldn’t exactly call that having fun.”

“C’mon, Abby,” Callie said, nudging Abby with her shoulder, “there are cheap drinks, good music and you’re in great company.” She smiled widely before she took a long sip of her drink. “Plus, this is the easiest place for you to break your streak.”

Abby sighed.

“Not this again.”

Callie set down her drink.

“Abby, you’ve been in this self-imposed celibacy for three years. It’s time. Consider this your opportunity put yourself back out there.”

Abby shook her head as she gestured to the throng of people around the room.

“How is this the place to jump back in? Everyone was basically married at the ten year reunion.”

Callie huffed in disbelief.

“Yeah, and now it’s been ten more years. I can basically guarantee you that more than half of those people are divorced.” She picked up her glass and took a drink before continuing. “Actually, I can guarantee it because I Facebook stalked everyone who rsvp’d yes to the Facebook invite.”

Abby laughed, then shrugged, not quite able to meet Callie’s eye.

“Maybe I don’t mind what my life has been like for the past three years.”

“Maybe your life shouldn’t be something that you ‘don’t mind.’” Callie retorted. She paused, then softened her tone. “Plus, we used to be roommates.” She looked at Abby over her drink and smirked. “The amount of times and variety of places I’ve accidentally walked in on you suggests that celibacy is decidedly not for you.”

Abby chuckled at that, then picked up her drink and took a long sip. She set the glass down and was quiet for a long moment before she finally spoke.

“Maybe…Jake was just it for me.” She looked up at Callie. “I mean, I have Clarke and my job.”

“And me,” Callie interjected.

Abby smiled.

“And you,” she agreed. She picked up her drink and lifted it in Callie’s direction before finishing the rest of it.“That’s a pretty damn good life.”

“It is, Abby,” Callie said with a nod. “I’m not saying that it’s not.” She finished the last of her drink and nodded at the bartender for another round before leaning against the bar to face Abby. “And I’m definitely not saying you should be trawling this place for a husband or anything.” She shuddered. “In fact, I would definitely advise against it given what I found during my Facebook stalking.”

She grinned as Abby laughed. The bartender came by with fresh drinks for the both of them. Callie looked down and toyed with her glass for a long moment before looking up and meeting Abby’s gaze.

“I just worry about you lately.”

Abby’s features softened into a reassuring smile.

“I’m doing ok.”

“I know you are. You’ve been so strong these last few years,” Callie said. “I hate that you even had to go through it all, but you did and it’s amazing.” She drummed her fingers on the tabletop. “You are the best person I know, Abby, and you’ve been such a great mom to Clarke these last three years.” She took a deep breath and sighed. “It’s just - sometimes I worry that you aren’t doing anything that’s just for you. That’s just to make you happy.”

She leveled a skeptical look at Callie.  

“And taking some guy we knew from twenty years ago home with me is gonna make me happy?”

Callie grinned.

“Well, it certainly couldn’t hurt. You have been increasingly crabby lately. Releasing some of that stored up sexual tension might do the trick.”

She waggled her eyebrows suggestively as Abby chuckled and shook her head.

“Have I really been crabby lately?” She asked after a moment.

Callie shrugged.

“Yeah, a little bit. You did send back your tea three times last week at brunch.”

“The water wasn’t hot enough!” Abby said defensively.

Callie raised her eyebrow.

“At the last school board meeting, you went on a fifteen minute rant about the use of the word inclusiveness versus inclusivity.”

“It was - .”

“It was literally fifteen minutes, Abby,” Callie interjected, drawing out the word. “On the use of one word in a school newsletter. I timed you.”

Abby took a deep breath and huffed a small, embarrassed laugh.

“So maybe I’ve been wound a little tight lately,” she admitted.

Callie smiled.

“Admitting it is the first step.” She took a long sip of her drink. “It’s been so long since you’ve let yourself enjoy…life. Your own life. Sometimes it seems like you’re so busy taking care of your patients and Clarke and me, that you don’t have the time to take care of you.”

Abby gave her a small smile.

“It does take a lot of work to take care of you.”

Callie grinned at her.

“I complicate my life in purpose. I know you like to be needed.”

Abby laughed. Callie clinked their glasses together and they both took a long drink.    
  
“Just, I don’t know, you’re here right?” Callie said, gesturing out across the crowded hotel ballroom with her glass in hand. “You’re not sitting at home watching reruns of Grey’s Anatomy by yourself while Clarke’s away for the weekend. That’s basically a small miracle in itself.” Abby exhaled pointedly at that, an indignant expression on her face that faded quickly into guilty acceptance. Callie grinned. “So, you know - drink, dance, flirt with the army of guys who wanted to sleep with you in high school. You deserve to have a good time, Abby.” She lifted her glass up and tilted it in Abby’s direction. “So, let’s go out and have a good time.”

Abby smiled and raised her own glass, tapping it against Callie’s before drinking down the remainder of her wine.

She set her glass down and squared her shoulders.

“Ok,” she said resolutely, “I’ll put myself out there. I’ll try and be fun tonight.”

She held up a finger in Callie’s direction.

“But I’m not going to take anyone home. Or going home with anyone.”

“Famous last words,” Callie said over the rim of her own glass, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

Abby knocked her shoulder into Callie.

“Not for me.”

Callie threw her head back and laughed. Abby gave her a wry grin.

“Well,” she hedged, “not since med school, at least.”

“Alright,” Callie said, a smile still plastered on her face, “but at least consider a passionate makeout in some darkened corner.”

Abby sighed good naturedly and looped her arm through Callie’s.

“If you can find me someone worth making out with here, I’ll consider it.”

Callie smiled widely at her, a determined glint in her eyes that made Abby want to take her words back. Before she could say anything else, the bartender arrived with two more drinks in tow. Callie grabbed them and handed one to Abby.

“I didn’t order another drink,” Abby said, though she took the proffered wine glass anyway.   

“I know,” Callie replied, then tapped her glass against Abby’s. After they’d both taken a long drink, she tugged Abby towards the direction of the dance floor. “C’mon, let’s mingle.” She grinned. “We need to find someone for you to make out with.”   

* * *

Nearly an hour and another full glass of wine later, and Abby had to admit that she was fully enjoying herself. She’d been nothing if not glad to leave high school, but she also couldn’t deny that high school had been a pretty damn enjoyable experience. She’d spent the past hour catching up with all the various groups she had been a part of during her time in college. Had reminisced with friends from Yearbook about terrible layouts and coffee fueled all nighters; laughed with former Debate club friends about arguments that no longer mattered; exchanged stories of generic, teenaged idiocy with people she’d spent hours in Student Government with.

All people who she’d slowly lost touch with in the grind of med school, the business of motherhood, and, finally, the sorrow filled years since Jake’s death.  

Midway through a conversation about their AP Literature teacher’s hellish weekly essays, she spotted Callie gesturing her over with all the subtlety of a toddler throwing a tantrum.

She excused herself politely from the conversation and walked quickly over to Callie.

“What’s so urgent?”

“So. Someone just showed up and he aged extremely well.”

“Who?”

She pointed behind Abby.

“Marcus Kane.”

Callie looked at Abby’s expression and burst out laughing.

“Oh my god, even after all these years.”

“What?” Abby asked defensively.

“You still get that same look on your face when you hear his name.”

“What look?”

“The same look I imagine is on mine every time there’s a tomato somewhere on my food. Like you can’t possibly understand why anyone would think it’s a good idea; like you’re questioning why it even has to exist.”

“He’s just a ridiculous human being.

Callie shrugged, then took a long sip of her drink.

“He was. But to be fair, he didn’t come to the ten year, so we don’t really know what he ended up like.”

Abby shook her head, disbelieving.

“I can’t imagine he’d end up as anything other than a complete asshole.”

Callie tilted her head, considering Abby’s expression.

“You really didn’t like him.”

“What are you talking about? We really didn’t like each other.”

Callie made a humming sound in the back of her throat.

“What?” Abby said, surprised that Callie didn’t immediately agree. “He hated me from the moment I moved to the school.”

“I definitely think that’s true. I mean, he practically ran the school and then you come swanning in halfway through tenth grade and suddenly everyone’s flocking to you. Poor awkward, aloof Marcus, didn’t stand a chance next to pretty, perfect Abby.”  

She rolled her eyes.

“Stop it. It just wasn’t hard to be likable when you’re competing with Marcus Kane.”

Callie took another sip of her drink before setting it down on the table in front of her, drawing her finger along the edge of the glass.

“I mean, I agree that he did at first. But by our senior year…I don’t know.”

Abby raised her eyebrow.

“You don’t know what?”

Callie shrugged.

“Well, by the time our senior year rolled around, he always looked torn between wanting to argue with you and wanting to kiss you. Sometimes, he looked like he wanted to kiss you while he was arguing with you.”

Abby stared at her, a look of disbelief clearly lining her features.

“Are you serious? Don’t you remember the debate in AP Gov?”

Callie huffed a laugh.

“Abby, everyone remembers that debate in AP Gov. That debate is now probably part of the AP Gov syllabus. High school students are currently learning about that debate in their AP Gov classes.”  

“Exactly.”

Callie shook her head.

“Except that debate just proves my point.” She grinned at Abby’s confused look. “At the end of it, I wasn’t sure whether he was ready to throw you out of the class or throw you against a desk and start making out with you.”

Abby’s lips curdled into a grimace.

“I just started having a good time, Callie. Don’t make me nauseated.”

Callie laughed.

“I mean, be honest, Abby - it was a two way street. Remember he hated his last name because he was embarrassed that his mom taught at the school? And when you found that out you then you only called him by his last name. You weren’t exactly accommodating to him.”

Abby snorted.

“I didn’t need to be, everyone else was.”

“Abby.”

“What?”

“Pot, meet kettle.” She laughed at Abby’s affronted look. “You know, I think that’s part of the reason you hated him so much - you could never get him to do what you wanted the way you could with everyone else.”

“That’s not true!”

“Abby, you once got Mrs. Allen to move the final because it was the same day as your debate competition.”

Abby spread her hands out in front of her and tilted her head.

“It worked out for everyone.”

Callie didn’t say anything, though she still managed to give a distinct impression of rolling her eyes.

“Anyway, all this talk of Marcus Kane and you still haven’t even looked over to see what he looks like now.” She rolled her eyes good-naturedly at Abby’s stubborn look of refusal, then gestured directly behind her. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

Abby sighed heavily, then leaned back against the table and glanced casually behind her in the direction that Callie had pointed. She found him immediately, despite being able to only see his profile as he talked to someone across the table from him. But she could still recognize that rigid way he held himself, the fixed intensity of the stare she’d so often been on the other side of. He turned to greet someone that was standing off to the left of him, affording her a clear line of sight to his open face.

His hair had grown out, long and curled at the ends, a loose strand falling across his forehead in a way that was almost boyish. There was a thick beard covering half his face, trimmed enough to be groomed but still rougher than what she might’ve expected from him. She watched as he laughed, genuine and carefree in a way he’d never been when she knew him, and ran a hand down his beard. The movement was abruptly, inexplicably appealing to her; she shook her head, trying to clear it.

Suddenly, he looked past the figure standing before him and met her eyes from across the room. He looked taken aback, eyes wide with surprise; then, the corner of his mouth lifted in an uncertain half-smile and he raised a hand, his fingers twitching awkwardly as he waved to her.

She blinked rapidly, feeling her face heat up in response, and looked away without responding in kind.

“So I’m guessing you liked what you saw,” Callie said wryly.

Abby cleared her throat, brows furrowing, her eyes narrowing at Callie.

“Am I…” She trailed off and stared at her glass for a moment before meeting Callie’s eyes with a bewildered stare. “Am I _that_ drunk?”

Callie grinned.

“You might be. But I can confirm that he is very, very hot, regardless.”

Abby huffed and shook her head again, trying to clear the fuzziness that came with drinking three glasses of wine.

“I was…not prepared for that.”

Callie laughed loudly.

“This night is going to be amazing.” 


	2. All the roads we have to walk are winding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Just so you know,” Kane said, glancing down at her, “I didn’t hate you when we were eighteen.”
> 
> She made a noise of disbelief as she tilted her head up at him.
> 
> “I find that very hard to believe.” She shifted to get a better look at him, but didn’t pull back her arm from around his waist. Probably because he hadn’t moved his from around her shoulder yet either, though she found that didn’t mind. “You could barely get out two words without arguing with me.
> 
> The corner of his mouth turned up.
> 
> “I think by that point I wasn’t really sure how to talk to you without arguing.”

Abby shifted, determined not to turn back around and catch another peak. She tilted her head in confusion at Callie. **  
**

“Wait, how did you not know what he looked like? I thought you Facebook stalked everyone.”

“I did. But he’s your same level of weird. His profile picture is a random landscape photo and everything else he’s tagged in is from faraway or from a weird angle.” She raised a teasing eyebrow at Abby. “Believe me, had I known he’d gotten this hot, I would’ve mentioned it to you earlier. As it is, he is now definitely top of the list.”

Abby shook her head.

“For you, maybe.  

Callie threw back her head and laughed.

“Ok,” she said once her laughter had died down, “because you didn’t just stare at him and imagine running your hands through his hair and beard.”

Abby drew her brows together, an indignant look on her face even as she wondered just how exactly Callie had pinpointed her line of thinking.

Callie looked at her over the top of her wine glass.

“Hey, who knows? After all those years of arguing with each other - maybe beneath all that angry tension is a whole lot of sexual tension.”

“No, I’m pretty sure that beneath that tension is just more tension.”

“C’mon, at least flirt with him.”

“Callie, why don’t _you_ flirt with him. He could be your type.”

“Oh, please. Don’t try and deflect, Abby. We’re here for you, not for me.” She sighed melodramatically. “Besides, if you’ll remember - Marcus Kane is immune to my charms.”

“I do remember. You used to flirt with him relentlessly.”

Callie grinned at that.

“If you’ll remember correctly - I used to flirt with everyone relentlessly.”

Abby raised a brow.

“Used to?”

Callie didn’t answer, though her expression deepened into something slightly more mischievous. She leaned over to glance over Abby’s shoulder.  

“Anyway, I mostly flirted with him because he was so damn unflappable.” She looked back over at Abby with a smirk. “Except for, you know, when it came to you.”

Abby rolled her eyes.

“Yes, then he was just pissed off rather than emotionless.”

“Ok, fair. But you were the only one that could ever get a rise out of him. Figuratively speaking, of course.” She grinned wickedly at Abby. “Though maybe tonight you - .”

Abby held up a hand and shook her head.

“Please don’t.” She shifted in her seat. “Besides, I can’t imagine we’d even have anything to talk about. I mean, we had nothing in common even then.”

Callie nodded sagely.

“Right.”

Abby nodded, tilting her head towards Callie as she did to add emphasis to the motion. Callie continued to look at her with a glint in her eye, nodding her head and pursuing her lips as she did.

She sighed.

“What, Callie?”

“Just that, you know, you actually did have a lot in common.” She tapped her fingers onto the table. “You took all the same classes. You were both in Student Government and on the Debate Team and in Yearbook.” She paused and furrowed her brows. “You were even both in Track and - oh my God, Abby.”

Abby leaned forward, her hand going out in an open gesture as she tilted her head towards Calie.

“What?”

Callie looked over her shoulder again in what she assumed was in Marcus Kane’s direction, shooting him a look of such unhinged glee that Abby could only hope his back was turned. She didn’t want to have to explain away her friend’s temporary case of insanity.

“Callie - what is going on with you?”

Callie’s attention snapped back to her, her glee practically sending her bouncing in her chair.

“Abby, he totally did those things so that he could spend time with you.”

Abby leaned away from Callie, crossing her arms in front of her and shaking her head.

“Oh my god, no. I am not going to participate in your revisionist history of our time in high school.“

“Abby, seriously - what’s revisionist about it? Mr. Kaforous spent two full years trying to recruit Marcus to the debate team. Then you join and all of a sudden he’s the first one on the sign up list.”  

“It was our Junior year,” she shot back, “he needed to bulk up his resume.”

“But why not Academic Decathlon instead, which, let’s face it, was totally up his alley?” She leaned forward, her eyes shining with some weird excitement as her theory began to run through her mind. “Why’d he join Track and not Cross Country like the rest of the Soccer guys? And why Yearbook instead of Newspaper, even though I can tell you firsthand that Mrs. Belanger begged for him to join us every year?”

Abby looked around, casting her glance as though the answer to Callie admittedly good string of questions was on the table around her. When she couldn’t find one, she simply looked at Callie and pursed her lips.

“I don’t know why he did those things, Callie. But they must’ve had some added benefit we aren’t thinking of.”

A self-satisfied smile spread itself across Callie’s face.

“Um, I’m telling you I do know the benefit and it’s that he got to spend time with you.” She stared at Abby, her smile spread so wide Abby wondered if her cheeks hurt. “You know, I always thought he was into you the back half of our Senior year, but now I’m pretty sure that he spent half of high school in love with you.”

“Callie, even if were true that he joined all those clubs because of me, you know how Kane was - he was probably just trying to figure out a way to get under my skin - and don’t,” she said holding up a warning finger, “turn that into an innuendo.”

Callie shut her mouth tightly, very obviously keeping herself from saying any more. She took a long drink and set down her glass, then looked at Abby thoughtfully, her fingers tapping out a rhythm against the table

“Just say it, Callie,” Abby said after long, loaded moment.   

“Ok, just - there is some evidence that he wasn’t as bad as you remember.” She took in Abby’s raised brow and nodded. “When he was chair of the athletics committee, he worked really hard to get new jerseys for all the girls’ sports teams because they were like, ten years old and disgusting.”

“Because he cared about females in sports?”

“Well,” Callie hedged, “mostly because he cared about our image as a school, but hey, the girl’s soccer team finally got new jerseys, so I was grateful.”  

“Of course. The school image reflected on him, so he wanted to make sure we looked good.”

Callie finished her drink before she continued.

“He also used to tutor people after school in the library. Do you realize he was basically the reason that we had the highest percentage of people in the state pass all the AP History tests three years straight?” She reached across the table and took a sip of Abby’s wine. “He’s the reason I even managed to get a three on the AP US History test. You remember how useless Mr. Lemons was.”

Abby furrowed her brows at Callie.

“I didn’t know that.”

Callie lifted a shoulder in a easy gesture.

“Why would you? You never needed one and you definitely never would’ve asked him to be one.”

“I mean, I didn’t know you needed a tutor. You could’ve asked me.”

Amusement flashed across Callie’s face.

“Abby.”

“What?” Abby asked, indignant. “I got a five on that test.”

“Honey, you know I love you and I’m sure you’d be great at it now, but in high school -.” She shrugged her shoulders. “You were just so naturally great at everything that it frustrated you when other people weren’t.”

Abby blinked rapidly at that, caught off guard by the statement.

“And he wasn’t?” She asked, not even trying to dig at the man, mostly just curious about it all.

Callie shook her head.

“I’ve known Marcus since pre-school. He always had to work a lot harder at everything than you did. Not just the social stuff, though God knows how much work he needed in that department, but all the academic stuff, too.Somehow that made him a good tutor.”  

“I didn’t know any of that stuff.”

Callie arched an eyebrow over the lip of Abby’s wineglass.

“As if it would have mattered.”

“It might have,” Abby said defensively, though not with any real conviction.  

Callie gave her a look of pure affection.

“Abby, one of the things I love about you is that once you decide on something, there’s nothing that can stop you from doing what needs to be done.” She swirled the last of Abby’s wine before drinking it down. “Which makes you an awesome friend and mother and head surgeon now, but when we were younger it mostly meant that once you made up your mind about something or someone, nothing was going to convince you otherwise.”

Abby was quiet for a long moment, staring pensively across the table at Callie. She was self-aware enough to know that Callie spoke the truth, and old enough to recognize all the ways the sharp edges of her personality had been softened with time and maturity. She’d long cast Kane as an emotionless, prickly antagonist of her high school years; now she wondered what the story might look like if she had to live it all over again.

“So, you’re telling me,” Abby said slowly, “that he wasn’t actually the asshole I remember him to be?”

Callie snorted a laugh, then shook her head.

“Oh, God no. He was an asshole. It was only my desperation to pass that class that made me turn to him.” She beamed at Abby and leaned over, knocking their shoulders together. “But I also think you’ve made him out to be some kind of outlier, when really he was an asshole the same way any eighteen year old kid can be an asshole.”

She stared at Callie for a moment, the thought coming to her in a moment of embarrassing epiphany.

“Apparently, so was I.”

Callie flashed a smile at her, then threw an arm around Abby’s shoulders.

“Sometimes. But you were also way more fun than he was and actually capable of showing human emotion, so you still won out.”

Another glass of wine arrived for Callie then as Abby mulled over what Callie had just said. While she wasn’t quite sure if she really believed it, she found herself admitting that it wasn’t as far fetched as she had made it seem to Callie. Truthfully, she had definitely spent far more time with him than with any other single person in her high school career - hundreds of late nights finishing up Yearbook spreads or preparing for competition, hours of traveling in cramped spaces to Debate competitions and Track meets. And they had been thrown together or paired up fairly often, much to her constant irritation and dismay. But could she have really misread and missed him so completely?

She felt her lips turn up in a sardonic expression.

Well, actually, yes.

She’d long known that a tendency to focus on big ideas and broad ideals meant that she was more susceptible to missing the details that were directly in front of her. It was perfectly plausible that the hostility from her end hadn’t been reflected, but instead had been deflected.

But really, did it matter? High school was twenty years ago. The fact that he might not have been as terrible as he’d beenin her memory didn’t really change the fact that they’d spent three years verbally sparring with one another, that those years probably negated any reason for them to really speak to one another tonight.

She turned around to find Kane in the crowd of people in the middle of the room, her eyes finding him immediately at the far end of the ballroom. Apparently all that time spent together during high school made it easy for her to quickly pick him out of a crowd. She was grateful that the distance between them and the breadth of the room made it possible for her to study him. He was wearing a dark grey sweatshirt with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, the fabric of it thin enough to show off the hardened lines of his back and torso. He moved easily around the room, reaching out to hug old friends and offer handshakes to former classmates. It was a strange sight, because she felt like she had spent all of high school seeing him hold himself apart from everyone, arms crossed and features shuttered closed. He also smiled more in the few minutes that she watched him than he had their entire time in high school. Too bad, too, because she found herself liking the shape of it - wide and open and completely honest.

She cleared her throat, trying to shake that last thought from her brain.

“Anyway, regardless of all that, he is still not a candidate for your mission for tonight.”

She heard Callie snicker behind her.

“You mean, regardless of what I just revealed about our time in high school, or regardless of the fact that he got ridiculously hot and you can’t stop staring at him.”

Abby felt her cheeks heat up, suddenly grateful that she wasn’t facing Callie.

“Um - I. Both.” She shook her head, though she still found herself unable to keep herself from tracking him in the crowd before her. “And I don’t - I’m not - he isn’t that hot.”

“Right.” Callie drawled out, sarcasm running across the word. “You know that defense is way less convincing after the third time you’re caught lusting over the man.”

She turned around abruptly, her eyes narrowing at Callie.

“I am not..”

Callie reached over and rested her hand on Abby’s shoulder.

“Abby, you’ve licked your lips a half dozen times since you started staring at him and you keep, like, running your hand down your neck.”

Abby froze, her hand flush against her neck. She dropped it before shaking her head vehemently, unable to meet Callie’s knowing stare.

“Really. He could stand right in front of me and it’d have no effect on me. At all.”

“Well, that’s good to know, because he’s coming over here right now.

“Wh - what!”

Callie’s grin widened.

“Yup, headed this way with - I think - yes, Sinclair.”

She was suddenly filled with a desire to - jump up, fix her hair, smooth down her dress. It was only by sheer will that she did neither, just barely managed to rearrange her features into something approaching curious rather than frantic.

“Seriously? Why?”

Callie raised her eyebrow at her.

“Uh, because it’s a reunion? And you’re supposed to…reune.”

She laughed loudly, hoping that she didn’t sound anxious.

“Right, that’s not a word.”

Callie smirked.

“Also, since he’s with Sinclair, I’m guessing it has something to do with that yearbook project he’s doing…”

“What yearbook project - ?” She asked, confused at the way Callie mentioned it like she was just supposed to know what she was talking about.

“It was in the email.”

“There was an email?”

“Oh my God, you’re impossible.” Then, her eyes brightened, a cheshire cat grin splitting her features. “Hey, wait - weren’t you and Marcus voted most likely to succeed for senior superlatives?”

“What?” She asked, confused at the sudden change of topic. When Callie offered no clarity or explanation, she nodded. “And yes, we were.” She snorted a laugh as she shook her head. “Most awkward picture of my life, if recall correctly.”

Callie smirked in a way that made Abby worry, just a bit, about the trajectory of the night.

“Well, we’ll certainly see after this if that stays true.”

“What do you - .”   

“Hey you two,” she heard a voice behind her say.  

Abby turned around, greeting Sinclair with a hug. They’d been in Yearbook together, she in charge of clubs, he as the editor their Senior year. Kane stood back behind him a few feet and raised his hand in greeting when she let go of Sinclair.

“It’s good good to see you - both,” she said, tacking on the last word and peering around Sinclair at Kane. He smiled at her, and even though it was uncertain at the edges, it was still absurdly and immediately pleasant. She had to fight her own responding frown - not at the man himself, but at the fact that she found him so distractingly attractive. Instead, she allowed herself a small smile at him in return, then turned her attention back to Sinclair.

“So, hopefully you two read the email?” He asked.

Callie shook her head.

“Abby didn’t, Sinclair, so you should explain it to her.”

“Uh - ok. So we’re doing a video yearbook with everyone - you know, a then and now sort of thing. And since you two,” he said, pointing between her and Kane, “were voted most likely to succeed, we need to take a picture of you two looking, you know, successful. And then I’ll interview the two of you and see what you’ve been up to.”

“So everyone can judge whether or not we lived up to their vote?” Kane asked, speaking for the first time, dry, self deprecating tilt to his words.

Sinclair smirked.

“Something like that.” He held up a camera and stepped a few feet away from them both, Callie shuffling back behind him. “So, I’m going to need the two of you to stand next to each other and, you know, look like you’re on top.”

Behind him, she saw Callie mouth “of each other” and sighed heavily, wondering how she managed to have a 38 year old friend who still sometimes acted 12. Luckily, a peek beneath her lashes showed Kane folding down the sleeves of his sweater, thank God, so he didn’t have to wonder why her best friend and date for the night was now making lewd motions behind Sinclair.

She straightened her own dress out, smoothing out the fabric, before standing just near enough to be deemed close but not so much as to be touching any part of him. It seemed dangerous, somehow. She noticed that he did the same, his arm hanging stiffly beside him, careful not to brush up against her.

Sinclair cleared his throat.

“So, ok, maybe stand a little bit closer to one another.”

She shuffled in closer to Kane, squinting up at him. Jesus, had he always been this tall? She knew he hadn’t always been this good looking, but had he always towered over her so completely? He looked down at her, his expression as uncomfortable as she felt.

Somehow, that actually made her feel better.

She took in a deep breath and tried to exhale her strange sort of nervousness. She was being absolutely ridiculous. So what if he was undoubtedly twice as attractive as any other man in the room? It didn’t mean anything, really. She straightened her spine as she stepped in close to him. She looked up at him and smiled, then looped her arm around his waist.

“We should at least try and make this photo less awkward than the one where we were eighteen and hated each other.”

He chuckled at that and nodded. After a moment’s hesitation, he draped his arm around her shoulders.

She smiled brightly at the camera, trying not to think about the fact that she was pressed close enough to feel the hard lines of his body and idly wondering what he looked like without a shirt on.

She blinked rapidly at that last thought. She really needed to slow down on the wine.

After a few moments, Sinclair nodded and looked down at the screen of his camera. Callie sidled up close to him and waited for him to tip the camera screen in her direction.

“Just so you know,” Kane said, glancing down at her, “I didn’t hate you when we were eighteen.”

She made a noise of disbelief as she tilted her head up at him.

“I find that very hard to believe.” She shifted to get a better look at him, but didn’t pull back her arm from around his waist. Probably because he hadn’t moved his from around her shoulder yet either, though she found that didn’t mind. “You could barely get out two words without arguing with me.

The corner of his mouth turned up.

“I think by that point I wasn’t really sure how to talk to you without arguing.”

She stared at him, surprised at his level of honesty.

“I guess - well I know, actually, that I didn’t exactly make things easy for you,” she finally said, deciding to offer up her own honesty in turn.

He huffed a laugh, then shrugged.

“We were kids,” he said quietly. “There’s quite a lot I would’ve done differently.”   

Not even an hour ago, she probably wouldn’t have agreed with him. Or even have given him or her the chance to talk to one another.

But it wasn’t an hour ago. And it wasn’t twenty years ago.

So instead she just offered him a small half smile and nodded.

“Yeah, me too probably.”

He stared down at her, his dark eyes registering surprise.

“That’s unexpected.”

Her smile became something closer to a grimace as she looked at him with a halfway chagrined expression.

“It’s recently been brought to my attention that I may have been overly harsh to certain individuals in high school.”

He chuckled, then shook his head.

“Certain individuals should then probably admit to being overly blunt and unapproachable.”

“What - .”

“Pictures look good, you two.” Sinclair called out, causing both of them to turn towards him. It suddenly occurred to her that their arms were still wrapped around one another despite the fact that the last five minutes had been decidedly without any picture taking. She quickly dropped her arms and stepped away from him. She tried to ignore Callie’s knowing look and focused instead on Sinclair as he gestured to the seats beside him. “Wanna have a seat and we’ll do a quick interview? It shouldn’t take very long.”

She hurried to the proffered seats and sat down, smoothing out her dress as Kane took a seat next to her.

Sinclair steadied the camera on a tripod next to him and clicked it on before turning to Abby.

“So, Abby Griffin, formerly Walters. Take us through your life since you graduated from high school.”

She groaned inwardly. She wasn’t overly fond of talking about herself, and still couldn’t quite figure out how to mention the fact that she was a widow without deflating the entire room. She stared at the camera and decided to skip mentioning it completely. It was a quick interview about where she’d been and what she was doing, not a confessional of how hard the last few years had been.

She stared into the camera.

“Well, I went into college with a bunch of credits, so I graduated a year early and went straight to med school. Survived that, got married and had a beautiful daughter named Clarke soon after that. A few years later, I became a surgeon. I worked in trauma for a while but -.” Her voice skittered to a stop and she bit her lip in attempt to focus away from the feeling of sadness welling up in her. She saw Kane’s eyes flickering with sympathy, his gaze understanding in a way that made her wonder if he knew about Jake somehow. She looked away from him and back up at Callie, who was giving her a look of love and affection, the expression giving her the focus to return back to the moment. She cleared her throat and continued. “Sorry, I, um, ended up switching to Obstetrics, which is what I’m still doing right now.”

Sinclair gave her a long look before he nodded and switched his attention to Kane.

“And what has Marcus Kane been up to since being voted most likely to succeed?”

He cleared his throat and sat up straighter. She turned to face him, curious as well to hear what he’d gotten up to. While she had always known what she wanted to do, he’d always been so all over the place in school that she could never figure out what he even wanted to do.

And, of course, she’d never bothered to ask, either.

“I got a business degree, worked for a few years, then decided to go to law school,” he began. “I ended up in political consulting and moved out to DC, where I worked on a few campaigns until about five years ago when my mom got sick.”

His gaze faltered for a moment, his eyes taking on a faraway, sorrowful look that made Abby want to reach out and lay a comforting hand on him. She’d heard his mother had died a little less than a six months ago, had felt guilty when a last minute surgery had kept her from attending the funeral. She’d had his mother as a teacher- as almost everyone at their school did at one point or another - and could remember always wondering how such a warm, kind woman could’ve raised a boy as aloof and distant as Kane.

Except that she didn’t need to wonder that, now. Kane’s eyes, though still filled with sadness, now gleamed with a warmth she always remembered from his mother. Kane cleared his throat and moved on.

“Anyway, I lost the drive to work in politics and ended up as became a freelance development consultant, mostly for the non-profit industry. Which is what I’m still doing right now.”

Sinclair nodded, then leaned back in his chair.

“So, the question I’ve been asking everyone - what’s the thing in your life that you’re most proud of?”

Abby shuffled in her seat, trying to come up with an answer that balanced honesty without too much sentimentality when she heard Kane clear his throat next to her.

“For me, it’s that I was able to take care of my mom in her final years and…” He looked away for a moment, then back at Sinclair. “And be the kind of son she deserved all along.”

She swallowed hard against the lump that suddenly grew in her throat, though grateful that he gave her the opening to say something similarly honest and touching.

“Wow,” Sinclair said, looking at Kane in surprise before shaking his head and turning to Abby. “And what about you, Abby?”

She smiled at Kane before she turned towards Sinclair.

“Having a daughter who has all the best parts of Jake and me and raising her to be better than I ever was.”

Sinclair nodded before he shifted towards the camera and turned it off.

“Nice job, you two. That one should be a real crowd pleaser.”

He turned towards Kane with a raise of his brow.

“You know, I’m a little surprised you didn’t mention your kids.”

Kane blinked rapidly, his brows drawing towards the bridge of his nose. Abby, too, turned toward him in surprise. She’d never been great at keeping track of everyone post high school, but she did feel like between her and Callie, one of them might’ve known that Kane had a son.

“What - .”  

Sinclair waved a hand at him.

“I saw you at the St. Mary’s Promotion yesterday. Your son - Bellamy, right? - gave a great speech. And your little girl was hilarious.” He chuckled. “I tried to find you afterwards, but you guys had already left.”

Understanding dawned on Kane’s face.

“Oh.” He nodded, his eyes darting between Sinclair, Abby and Callie. “Bellamy and Octavia - they aren’t mine. They live next door to my mom’s house.” He crossed his arms in front of him. “Their own parents aren’t really around, so I’ve tried to help out where I can.”

“Ah,” Sinclair replied. “Ok, yeah. I was trying to figure out when you would’ve had time to have a fourteen year old son. Also, it makes a little more sense now why he used your first name in his speech.”

Kane smiled.

“Yeah, I definitely didn’t have the time or probably the empathy needed to raise a kid when I was 24.” He scrubbed his hand through his beard. “I do what I can whenever I’m in town.”

Sinclair clapped him on the shoulder.

“Must be a pretty damn good job for him to single you out during his speech.” He turned to Callie. “Alright, you’re next. We need to find your fellow life of the party.”

Callie nodded, shooting a completely unsubtle grin at Abby before she hooked her arm through Sinclair’s.

“Oh, we can get to me last. I can help you find everyone else who might be here.”

She gave an overtly obvious wink in Abby directions while Kane - thank God - was saying goodbye to Sinclair. She watched them go with a roll of her eyes, then turned back to Kane.

“Hey,” she said quietly, “I’m sorry about your mom.” She leaned forward and laid a hand on his arm. “She was a really kind soul.”

He looked down at her hand and swallowed before meeting her eyes.

“Thanks,” he said softly. He opened his mouth to say something, then hesitated. She quirked an eyebrow in his direction, encouraging him to go on. He took a deep breath, his eyes flickering with uncertainty. “And I’m sorry, too - about Jake, I mean.” He shook his head. “I really can’t imagine how difficult that must’ve been - must be, actually.”

She nodded, grateful that he seemed to be neither uncomfortable or overly emotional like people tended to get when they learned she was a widow.

“It’s been a difficult few years.” She admitted, then gave him a small smile. “But things have definitely gotten better.”

They were quiet for a minute before a thought hit her.

“I’m surprised you knew - according to Callie, you’re not exactly active on Facebook.” Her eyes widened suddenly, her face warming up against her will. She had definitely not meant to own up to the fact that she and Callie had talked about him at any time in the night. It didn't help either that her hand was still lingering on his arm. She quickly drew it back. 

Luckily, he seemed to be battling his own inner monologue to really notice her telltale embarrassment.

“Oh, uh .” He looked away from her momentarily, his posture suddenly stiff and awkward. “Jac mentioned it - earlier, when we were catching up.”

She stared at him, trying to keep the corners of her mouth from turning up. She wondered at the line of conversation where she had come up before his event at St. Mary’s.

And speaking of -

“So, what was that about Bellamy’s speech?” She asked.

His shoulders relaxed into relief. He was quiet for a moment, then tapped his fingers against his thigh, his expression a mix of anger and sympathy.

“Bellamy was NJHS president, so he got to make the class speech. Unfortunately, his parents didn’t show up. Which wasn’t really a surprise and it was only an eighth grade promotion but - .”

“It’s still important to show up,” she finished up.   

Kane nodded.

“Exactly.” He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “Anyway, there was a part in the beginning when he asked all the parents and guardians to stand up so they could be recognized for all the hard work and support they’d given to their students.” He shook his head. “I felt terrible for him that he didn’t have anyone there to stand up for him.” He paused, his eyes softening with tenderness. “But before he asked everyone to clap, he looked right at me and said, ‘Marcus Kane, that means you, too.’”

Abby felt an overwhelming sense of fondness blooming in her chest at the very obvious fact that Bellamy’s recognition meant so much to him.

“And what about his sister?” She asked.

A look of affection gleamed in his eyes.

“After he pointed me out to the crowd, Octavia yelled out, ‘what about me? I helped you, too.’”

Abby laughed.

“Yeah,” Kane said with a grin, “that’s the exact reaction she got out of the crowd, too.”  

“How old is she?”

“Just turned ten.”

“Same age as Clarke, then.” She was quiet for a moment, letting the last strains of a Boyz II Men song wash over them. “Do you have a picture of them?”

Kane nodded, then pulled his phone from his pocket, swiping across the screen for a moment before turning it to face her. She peered down at a photo of him bracketed by two dark haired children. The boy - Bellamy, she corrected in her head - had dark, curling hair and a wash of freckles spread out across his tan skin. Octavia had the same dark hair, though was paler than her older brother, her eyes a striking shade of green. Whoever had taken the picture had caught Bellamy mid laugh, while Octavia smiled brightly up at him, her face awash in obvious devotion.

She looked back up at him.

“No wonder Sinclair thought they were yours.”

He didn’t say anything as he put his phone away, though she caught sight of his contented expression as he did.

“Do you have a picture of Clarke?” He asked.

She nodded and pulled out her phone and showed him the screen, the wallpaper a recent selfie of her and Clarke.

Kane looked at it for a moment, then glanced back up at her.

“She looks like you.”

Abby snorted and looked at him, an eyebrow raised in disbelief.

“How do you figure?”

  
He smirked at her.

“She just looks like anyone who thinks they can give her shit better be prepared to catch hell.”

She laughed, nodding slowly as she did.

“You know,” she said after a moment, the words stuck halfway between an accusation and a compliment, “you’re kind of charming.”  

He stared at her, his expression somewhere between confused and flattered.

“Thank…you?”

She let out a rueful chuckle, then shook her head.

“It’s just - you didn’t used to be.”

“That’s a rather nice way of saying I used to be a complete asshole.”

Laughter bubbled out of her. The corner of his mouth tilted up.

“You know, I’m actually still an asshole. I’m just better at hiding it now.”

She smiled at that.

“Well,” she said, tipping her head as she shrugged her shoulders, “at least you’re honest.”

He gave her a wry look.

“As I’m sure you can remember - honesty was never really my problem. It was tact that I needed to work on.”

“You seem to be doing alright with that now,” she pointed out. “I mean, I haven’t felt the need to argue with you even once tonight.”

“I guess it only took me twenty years to figure out how to actually talk to you.”

“And it only took me twenty years to not want to constantly challenge everything about you.”

“I didn’t mind,” he said quietly, not quite meeting her eye. “That was part of the appeal.”

She glanced down and caught his eye, the air between them abruptly charged with tension and then gone. She exhaled out slowly and steadily, the wine and the dim lighting combining with his surprising charm and the fact that he smelled ridiculously, deliciously good to make her feel flushed and keyed up.

“So, what’s my appeal now?” She asked after a moment, leaning in with a playful smirk. She had meant the question to be teasing, but instead it came out low and throaty.

He took a small, sharp intake of breath, and stared at her for a moment, surprise flickering across his face. Then, he smiled and pushed his seat back, standing up in front of her. She furrowed her brows in confusion at the abrupt movement, then did a double take when he reached out a hand in her direction.

“I’ll tell you if you dance with me.”  


	3. There are many things that I would like to say to you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She found herself wondering what kissing him would be like.
> 
> She blinked rapidly at the intrusive thought, unbidden but not, obviously, wholly unwelcome. She looked up at him and found him staring down at her intently, a simmering heat in his eyes as she watched his gaze dip down to her own lips.
> 
> She found herself moving closer to him, unconsciously tipping her head up, the wine combining with her attraction in a way that was almost reckless.
> 
> A burst of laughter from a table at the corner of the room jarred her back into herself, as she froze and dropped her eyes back down to a point just below his chin. She felt overly warm and jittery, shook her head in an attempt to clear it and took a deep breath.
> 
> She was drunk enough to imagine herself kissing Marcus Kane. She wasn’t drunk enough to actually start making out with him in the middle of the dance floor.

She stared at his open palm, her eyes traveling up the length of his arm and taking in the expression on his face - honest and open and hopeful, his eyes lit with amusement and warmth.

She smiled and nodded, laying her hand on his, unable to ignore the electric pull between them as she did. He kept her hand in his even after she stood, his hand cupping her palm.

She glanced over at him as they walked over to the middle of the hotel ballroom, his words turning over in her mind.

_That was part of your appeal._

The words themselves, though quiet, had not been unsteady; had seemed wholly sincere despite the flirtatious lilt at the end. Twenty years ago, she would’ve said that her only appeal to Marcus Kane was as a target for his bitterest insults.

But it was easy to now to look at their protracted and contentious history - the edges now softened with time, her perspective sharpened by maturity - and realize how much of their conflict had been a direct result of her own unnecessary sharpness.

Truthfully, if she had been as self-aware then as she was now, she would’ve realized that his own challenging of her had helped make her better in their shared adolescence - a better debater, a better writer, an all around better student. She had just been too blinded by arrogance to notice it.  

She was brought out of her musing when he turned to face her. He tugged her closer to him with one hand, the other coming to rest on the curve of her waist. She smiled and let her hand drift up his arm and around his neck, her fingers brushing up against the curled edges of his hair.

The last remaining notes of the cheesy R&B song ended, a new one starting up - plucked notes on a guitar string.

She tilted her head up slightly, her brow furrowed in concentration as she attempted to make out the first few chords of the song. It sounded frustratingly familiar for all that she couldn’t quite place the song.

“Wonderwall,” Kane said, indicating the music playing overhead. “But the Ryan Adams cover rather than the Oasis original.”

The first few lines of the song started up, the familiar words washing over her and setting her adrift in a wave of nostalgia.

“This was my favorite song for a lot of high school,” she said halfway through the second verse, then huffed a laugh, waiting for him to sardonically point out that it had been everyone’s favorite song in high school.

Instead, he just smiled.

“I remember,” he said, and she swore the look in his eyes shifted to something closer to fondness - even affection - as he said it. 

The verses transitioned to the chorus, and she found herself unintentionally singing along to the words.

_And all the roads we have to walk are winding  
And all the lights that lead us there are blinding_

She stopped abruptly, embarrassed, and was about to apologize when Kane smiled at her and picked up where she left off.

_There are many things that I_  
Would like to say to you  
But I don’t know how

She drew closer to him as he sang, finding herself drawn to low, steady timber of his voice. She smiled up at him before joining her voice with his to sing the last part of the chorus.

_Because maybe_  
You’re gonna be the one that saves me  
And after all  
You’re my wonderwall

She let her voice trail off as he did the same, found herself suddenly distracted by the look in his eyes - intense and simmering in a way that made her momentarily drop her gaze to his lips. She shifted her other hand in his, threading their fingers together before she looked up and met his eyes.

“You know,” she said, mostly to distract herself from the sudden spike of want between them, “this song actually reminded me of you for a long time.”

“Really?”

She nodded.

“There was a yearbook wrap party our junior year and someone had a guitar. I can’t remember how it came up, but Sinclair said that you could play. I didn’t believe him, so I made you prove it.” She looked at him and smiled. “And you played this song.”

The corner of his mouth turned up.

“I remember.”

“I mostly remember being annoyed at the fact that you could play well and had a great voice.”

He laughed.

“I mostly remember being annoyed with Jac for making me perform in front of everyone.”

She smiled, then tilted her head up at him with a questioning look.

“You know, I always wondered why you called him Jac when everyone else called him Sinclair.”

Kane stared at her intently for a long moment, his eyes searching her expression before he answered.

“It’s what he liked,” he finally said. “I think that’s half the reason he was happy to start college - he finally got to be called by his first name again.”

She furrowed her brows.

“Then why’d everyone else call him Sinclair?”

He squinted his eyes at her and tilted his head, momentarily confused, before answering.

“You really don’t remember?”

She shook her head.

“It was because Jacapo Sinclair seemed backwards,” Kane said. “Like - .”

“His last name should be his first and his first name should be his last,” she finished up, realization dawning on her. “I said that.”

He nodded.

“That you did.”

“And he didn’t like it?” She asked, though it was really more statement than question.

He looked down at her with a wry expression.

“Well, people mostly do like to be called by their given name.”

She huffed a laugh, though it was more embarrassed than amused.

“I guess you would know.”

He leveled a soft grin at her.

“I would.”

“So,” she said slowly, “I had everyone call him a nickname he didn’t really like for three years.” She shook her head. “God, I was kind of an asshole.”

Kane gave a noncommittal shrug, though the smirk on his face spoke to a certain level of agreement. She laughed, appreciating the honesty that had once so irritated her as a teen.

The smirk on his face became a genuine smile.

“To be fair, it’s not as if you made anyone do anything. People kind of just did what you wanted without you having to really ask.”

“Except for you.”

He smiled.

“Well, I was kind of an asshole, too.”

She laughed at that.

“God, if I could go back and do it all over again.” She shook her head as she smiled up at him.

“What would you do, you think?”

She bit her lip and stared off to some unfixed point above her.

“Well, I’d at least make sure to call people by their preferred names.” She dropped her gaze to meet his. “And I would’ve tried not to be such an asshole to you all the time.”

He smirked.

“Just some of the time?”

She shrugged, her lips curved up in a teasing smile.

“Only when you deserved it.”

“That’s fair.”

Silence settled back down over them, the last repeated chorus of Wonderwall fading out, replaced by the soaring strings of I Don’t Wanna Miss a Thing.

She let go of his hand, a giddy rush spreading out from the pit of her stomach when she noticed the flicker of disappointment on his face. She reached out to him as he stepped away from her, her hand drifting up from his shoulder to back behind his neck. She tangled her fingers together at the base of his neck and stepped in closer to him as he dropped both hands to grip her tightly around her waist.

“I figure you owe me another dance,” she said, unable to keep a smile from her face at the look of pleased surprise on his face.

He arched an eyebrow.

“And why is that?” One hand slid from her waist and rested warmly against the small of her back, drawing her closer to him. “Not that I’m complaining.”

She cocked her head up at him.

“I do believe you said you’d tell me what my appeal is if I danced with you.”

He was a quiet for a moment, his gaze serious and halfway nervous, before he answered:

“Your strength.”

She furrowed her brows, a skeptical look in her eyes.

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, first off - you’re here. Dancing, with me. Someone you’ve spent the last twenty three years hating.” He gave her a small smile. “It takes a certain kind of strength to change your mind about someone after that long.”  

She laughed, his glib answer unexpected after the seriousness in his expression.

“I didn’t spend twenty three years hating you.”

He raised an eyebrow and leveled a skeptical look down at her.

“Oh really?”

She shrugged, a teasing smile on her lips.

“I mean, there were a whole string of years where I didn’t even think about you, so I forgot to hate you.”

He grinned at her.

“That’s fair.”

“I was gonna say - hard to know how strong a person is when you’ve spent all of twenty-five minutes with them.”

He looked down at her, hesitating for a moment before he let out an unsteady breath.

“I didn’t even need that long to figure it out.” He shook his head at her raised eyebrow. “Abby, you lost your husband, and after that you managed to become head surgeon and raise your daughter on your own. I know that can’t have been easy.” He looked at her, his gaze warm and full of empathy. “It takes a lot of strength to keep moving forward after that kind of loss.”

She was quiet for a long moment, unsure of what to say. The man standing in front of her was increasingly not what she expected - charming where he’d once been aloof, sincere in a way that was utterly disarming.

Which all served to make him that much more attractive to her. She licked her lips as her eyes unintentionally dropped to his. The glance must not have passed unnoticed, because suddenly she felt his hands tighten around her waist for the barest of moments. The movement set off a wave of warmth that started at his fingertips and spread out through her veins.

She found herself wondering what kissing him would be like.

She blinked rapidly at the intrusive thought, unbidden but not, obviously, wholly unwelcome. She looked up at him and found him staring down at her intently, a simmering heat in his eyes as she watched his gaze dip down to her own lips.

She found herself moving closer to him, unconsciously tipping her head up, the wine combining with her attraction in a way that was almost reckless.

A burst of laughter from a table at the corner of the room jarred her back into herself, as she froze and dropped her eyes back down to a point just below his chin. She felt overly warm and jittery, shook her head in an attempt to clear it and took a deep breath.

She was drunk enough to imagine herself kissing Marcus Kane. She wasn’t drunk enough to actually start making out with him in the middle of the dance floor.

She heard clear his throat and forced herself to look up at him.

“You wanna step outside for a little bit?” He asked quietly. “I hear the outdoor lounge has a great view of the city.”

She nodded and stepped back from him, grateful for the distraction.

They walked out, his hand hovering above her lower back.

The night air was cool against her flushed skin. However, she soon realized that the twinkling of the stars overhead were far more romantic than the manufactured dimness of the ballroom they had just left, and the way that Kane kept glancing at her as they walked only made her feel warmer, if anything.

She was suddenly forced to admit that her desire to kiss Marcus Kane wasn’t a trick of wine or a fleeting thought in the middle of a sentiment soaked slow dance. It was a steady, pulsing want that kept hammering in her mind. Some part of her felt like she should fight it for - what reason? Nothing more than some deep set part of her that was still mired in the machinations of the past.

The more adult, and far more insistent part of her pointed out that Marcus Kane was charming and friendly, the candid rawness of their adolescence now tempered enough to be called sincere and genuine.

He was also far more handsome than she might have ever imagined he could be, a fact that was only magnified by the kindness and the openness of his smile.

“So, I never asked you.” She looked at him intently, though she kept her tone light and breezy. “If you could’ve done anything in high school differently, what would you have done?”

He stared at her for a long, still moment. Then, he stepped in close, his hands cupping her face gently before he lowered his head and pressed a kiss against her lips. Before she could react, he moved away.  

“That,” he said quietly, his eyes darting up to meet hers, half questioning, half nervous. “I would’ve done that.”

She looked back at him with surprise, a voice in the back her head that sounded suspiciously like Callie’s singing out a chorus of “I told you so’s.” She reached up and looped her arms around his neck, her fingers immediately brushing through the long strands of hair at her fingertips.

“It’s probably good that you didn’t,” she said with a smile.

He quirked his eyebrow at her.

“Yeah?”

She nodded.

“I wouldn’t have appreciated it then,” she said before leaning up towards him and kissing him in return. He tugged her closer to him and returned her kiss with a fervor that was surprising, her mouth opening up immediately under his. He tilted his head for a better angle, his body surging forward and pressing her against the balcony wall. His hands tangled in her hair, his tongue stroking hers, teasing and tender in turn. He broke off the kiss slowly, pressing his lips one last time against hers before drawing his head back and looking down at her.

“Wow,” she said when she finally like she could speak without sounding too breathless.

“What?”

“That,” she said, unable to hide her bewilderment, “was just not what I imagined kissing you would be like.”

He stared at her intently before a smile unfolded slowly across his features.

“So you’ve imagined kissing me?”

She leaned away from him and rolled her eyes.

“Don’t be smug. It’s a very new line of thinking.”

He nodded, a serious gesture at odds with the playful gleam in his eyes.

“Obviously not for me.”

“Obviously,” she echoed faintly. After a moment, she looked up at him with a questioning tilt of her head.

“So,” she said slowly, “you wanted to kiss me when we were eighteen?”

He bit his lip, then nodded.

“Before then. But, yeah, then too.”

She stared at him, dumbfounded for a moment. Then she sighed and shook her head.

“Callie will never let me forget that she was right.”

The corner of his mouth turned up.

“Yeah, I thought she’d figured it out by our Senior year. I was constantly swinging between fear that she’d tell you and hoping that she would.”

“Honestly? I probably wouldn’t have listened then,” she admitted. “You know, until Callie brought it up tonight, I just thought you hated me like - .” She stopped abruptly, suddenly wishing she could reel the words back in.  

“Like you hated me?” He chuckled. “It’s alright - I was a basically a prick for most of high school.” He shrugged. “I did mean what I said earlier - by our senior year, I really wasn’t sure how to talk to you without arguing with you. I know it’s pathetic, but then - well - I just figured that it was better than nothing.”

She shook her head.

“It’s not pathetic.”

“It kind of is.”

She laughed.

“Well,” she said, edging back closer to him, “I at least don’t want to argue with you any more.”

He tilted his head down at her.

“No?”

“Nope. Not even a little bit.”  

He raised an eyebrow.

“And what would you like from me?”

The corners of her mouth tugged up in a smile.

She leaned in, her fingernails scraping gently through his hair and down the slope of his neck.  

“I can think of a few things,” she murmured before pressing her lips against his.

The kiss was slower this time, more languid than fevered.

His hands gripped her waist, warm points of contact that anchored her to him.

He dipped his head and alternated between gentle nips and hot, open mouthed kisses down the slope of her neck. When he brushed his tongue against the hollow behind her ear, she shivered and gripped his hair tightly.

“Marcus,” she sighed out, his name more breath than voice.

He stilled for a moment, then pressed his body in closer to her, one hand drifting up the lines of body and resting beneath her breast, the other coming up to thread itself in her hair. He tugged gently at her hair, her head tilting back, opening up more of her neck to him. He laid a line of soft kisses up the slope of it, then licked a slow stripe to her ear. He pressed his mouth against her ear, his breath hot, his voice low and fevered.

“I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say my name.”

Her answering reply was swallowed up by his mouth, his lips crashing against hers. Part of her wanted to protest that it couldn’t possibly be the first time that she’d used his first name, but at the moment, she couldn’t think of anything except for the feel of Marcus’s mouth on hers, the press of his body, the touch his hand skimming its way up her thigh and cupping her ass.

She squirmed against him, and he broke off the kiss, leaning back to look her intently in the eye.

“Okay?” He asked, his breathing rushed and heavy.

She kissed him in reply, steady and slow, her hands making their way under his shirt. She trailed her lips up to his ear and kissed his earlobe before she spoke.

“Definitely okay.” She pressed her lips against the soft dip beneath his ear and sucked gently. “Just suddenly very glad that I wore a dress.”

He groaned, then moved his mouth over hers, one hand tightening around her waist, the other drifting down from the curve her ass to the soft skin of her inner thigh. Her breathing quickened as he began to trace slow circles onto her skin with his thumb. She felt dizzy with desire, her nails dragging down his back, her hips angling up towards his.

She was suddenly frustrated by the amount of clothing between them. Exhilarated by the want coursing through her veins, intense in a way she knew she hadn’t felt in years.

“Marcus,” she said, the last sound of his name coming out as a sharp gasp as his hand reached up to cup her underneath her dress, his thumb pressing against her in a way that made her moan. She wanted to tell him to take her home with him, but she also wanted him to keep his focus right where it was.

The decision was made for her when a loud _oh shit_ rang out next to them. They both froze, Marcus whipping his hand out from underneath her dress, her dropping her hands down to his hips.

She didn’t look over to whoever had interrupted them - just kept her gaze focused solely on Marcus’s chest as she attempted to slow her breathing. She saw Marcus look over to his right, his face half-hidden in shadow. A frazzled _sorry_ punctuated the air before they were alone again.

He looked back down at her, his eyes dark with desire and brimming with amusement.

“So - ,” he began, at the same moment she said, “Where - .“

They both stopped, smiling at each other, strained and heavy.

“You first,” he said.

She leaned up on her toes and kissed him.

“Where are you staying?”

His eyes widened with surprise.

“Here. I’m - uh - I have a room here.” He stared down at her, then swallowed, his eyes alight with a heat that made her want to kiss him again. She bit her lip instead and watched his eyes darken even further. “Do you want to come up?”

She nodded.

“I just need to get my purse.”

He leaned down and kissed her.

“I’ll meet you in there.” He glanced down briefly and then back up her, a rueful expression on his face. “I’m gonna need a second before I walk across a crowded ballroom.”

She smiled and rolled her hips against him, grinning wickedly at him before she darted across the empty balcony and back into the blaring music of the ballroom.

She headed straight towards her purse at the table, then turned around and found herself face to face with Callie.

“And where did you disappear off to?” She asked, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Before she could answer, she saw Callie’s eyes track across the room and narrow. She turned to follow Callie’s line of sight and made eye contact with Marcus as he made his way across the room. He smiled at her, his hair still slightly disheveled, and she found herself smiling back at him as heat rose in her cheeks.

Callie’s hands suddenly gripped Abby’s arms tightly.

“Holy shit, holy shit! Did you two - ?”

She turned to look at Callie.

“What?” Her eyes widened at Callie’s obscene gesture. “God, no, Callie. It’s only been twenty minutes.”

Callie shrugged good naturedly.

“Hey, sometimes that’s all you get.” She looked closely at Abby, then smirked. “Well, it was at least obviously enough time for you to have a pretty passionate make out in some darkened corner.”

“How did you - .”

“Other than the fact that your hair is kinda a mess?” She laughed as Abby’s hands went immediately to her hair and started to smooth it down. “Your face is all red from, oh, I don’t know - beard burn, maybe?”

Abby sighed, though she was in too good a mood for it to said like anything but contentment.

“No ‘I told you so’s’ please.”

Callie laughed.

“Please. I’m only going to say it about once every other hour for the rest of your life.” She giggled loudly and grabbed both of Abby’s arms in glee. “God, I can’t believe you’re going to fuck Marcus Kane.”

“Wow, a little bit louder please, I don’t think the bartender on the opposite side of the room heard you.”

Callie rolled her eyes.

“Oh, please. Everyone here is too drunk to notice. I’m nearly too drunk to notice.” She stepped in closer to Abby, her eyes serious and solemn. “So, how was it?”

“How was - ?”

“Oh my god, Abby, the kiss! How was the kiss? It must’ve been pretty damn good if it convinced you to sleep with him.”

Abby nodded slowly, trying to fit her jumbled mess of desire and surprise into words.

“He kisses like he argues,” she finally said, pleased with herself for what she felt was the perfect description.

Callie, however, wasn’t.

“What the fuck does that mean?” She laughed at Abby’s affronted look. “Abby, not all of us spent three straight years getting into every argument imaginable with Kane.”

Abby grinned, then furrowed her brows in confusion. Damn. There really must’ve been something to that makeout if her history with Marcus now made her smile instead of grimace.

She bit her lip, thinking of the best way to describe a sensation that was both familiar and completely novel.

“I mean, you remember what our arguments were like, right? How they had this tendency to get out of hand really quickly?”

“I remember,” Callie said dryly. “Everyone remembers that, Abby.“

“That’s because he always had this weird ability to make you feel like there was nothing else at all on this entire planet except for you and him. He’d be wholly, intensely focused on you - just put everything into it, and you knew he wasn’t going to stop until you’d been convinced.”

Callie stared at her for a long moment before a huge grin lit up the features of her face.

“Holy shit. You’re going to have such a good night.”


	4. All the lights that lead us there are blinding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’d put his suit jacket back on and managed to straighten out his shirt and tie in a way that made him look respectable. His hair, too, had gone from sloppily disheveled to fashionably so; her fingers twitched at the sight of it, and she found herself wondering if the strands were as soft as they looked, how he might sound as she wrapped her fingers through the ends and tugged. 
> 
> She blinked rapidly at that last thought, then bit her lip and pressed her eyebrows together in the hopes that it wouldn’t present itself anywhere on her face. He cleared his throat and managed a small smile as he walked up to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry it's taken me forever. Honestly, I was dragging my feet because I've never written smut before and I was worried/anxious. I think it turned out alright? This is a partial update of what was initially planned as a much longer chapter. The rest of forthcoming, I just wanted to give you all a little something since I haven't in so long! Thanks for reading! :)

She gathered her purse and downed the last half-full glass of wine nearest her before heading back out towards the lobby. She hesitated by the entrance of the ballroom, trying to see if she could pick Marcus out of the crowd. She frowned when she couldn’t find him - had she really spent so long talking to Callie? - then made her way towards the elevator, expecting to find him already waiting there.

He wasn’t, which presented her with a bit of a problem.

She didn’t know where his room was, so it wasn’t like she could meet him there. She didn’t even know what his phone number was. She bit her lip and leaned against the wall. There were a lot of things she didn’t actually know about him. Now that she was away from the press of his body, could think clearly without looking into that intense stare of his, she could feel a wave of questions riding along a wave of insecurity. Yes, he was insanely handsome and kissed like he’d spent the last twenty years just practicing that one skill - but that didn’t necessarily mean that she should spend the night with him. Right? God, was she really going to do this - indulge in some one night stand with a man that she knew - and genuinely hated - twenty years ago? She was a thirty-eight year old single mom who hadn’t slept with anyone in three years, hadn’t even slept with anyone besides Jake for the sixteen. She chuckled to herself - a wry, dry sound to it - and nearly made her way back into the ballroom when Marcus finally rounded the corner.

He’d put his suit jacket back on and managed to straighten out his shirt and tie in a way that made him look respectable. His hair, too, had gone from sloppily disheveled to fashionably so; her fingers twitched at the sight of it, and she found herself wondering if the strands were as soft as they looked, how he might sound as she wrapped her fingers through the ends and tugged.

She blinked rapidly at that last thought, then bit her lip and pressed her eyebrows together in the hopes that it wouldn’t present itself anywhere on her face. He cleared his throat and managed a small smile as he walked up to her.

“Hey,” he said, quiet and almost shy. When he saw her worrying at her lip and the furrow of her brows, he immediately laid a gentle hand on her upper arm. “You know we don’t have to do this. The fact that we even kissed - .” He shook his head and laughed, the sound registering as awed disbelief more than mirth.  “Anyway. We can just go back inside and have a good rest of the night.”

There was an earnestness to the his words, to the way he shifted on the balls of his feet and looked intently at her, that left her equal parts affectionate and lustful. She felt her reservations disappear completely, replaced instead by an almost roaring sense of urgency.

Perhaps she didn’t know exactly who he’d been for the last twenty years, or precisely how he had come to be the man he was right now. But she did know this: he was kind and made her laugh, kissed her in way that left her breathless and made warmth bloom in the pit of her stomach and between her thighs.

She wanted him in a way that she hadn’t felt since Jake died; wanted him in a way that surprised her. She had spent the last three years learning to accept all that life had thrown at her, no matter how painful or unwanted. Maybe it was okay to have something that she did want.

So instead of agreeing with him, instead of nodding and following him back into the ballroom, she just smiled and shook her head. Then, reached over to cup the back of his head in her hand and brought her mouth down onto his for a blistering, openmouthed kiss. He returned it immediately, cupping her face in his hands and pressing his body close to hers. She let herself melt into his kiss - his thumb stroking along the line of her jaw, his tongue sliding over hers - then drew back just enough to speak, her words nearly pressed onto his lips.

“Marcus,” she said, meeting his eyes and relishing the way they darkened at the sound of his name, “I do plan on having a good rest of the night - .” She leaned in closer to him, her lips brushing against the edge of his ear. “With you in your room.” She kissed him softly, her breath hot against his skin, before she stepped back and smiled at him. He swallowed thickly and nodded down at her, his eyes boring into hers, his fingertips trailing down her body in a way that made her shiver.

She breathed in sharply then forced herself to turn around, completely unsure about what she’d do if he kept looking at her like that. He stepped in close behind her and pressed the button to the elevator, his hand coming back to rest along the curve of her waist as they stood and waited for the elevator to arrive.

She leaned back against him slightly as he brushed his fingers down the slope of her neck, the pinpricks of heat from his fingertips making her shiver with anticipation. He dipped his head and pressed his lips against the juncture of skin between her neck and shoulder, the sensation making her eyes her eyes flutter for the barest moment. She was about to turn around and kiss him again when the elevator dinged loudly. Before she could move, he had stepped around her and grabbed her hand, tugging her with him into the empty elevator. As soon as the doors closed he turned to face her and crashed his lips against hers, reaching down to twine both their hands together before walking her backward until she was pressed between the elevator wall and his body. He raised his arms to pin their intertwined hands up against the wall, then locked one hand around both her wrists as the other brushed down the lines of her arm to cup her face.

He licked his way into her mouth, his tongue restless against hers, his lips insistent and eager. She arched toward him, unable to stop her smile when she felt his hardness against her. A electric charge of desire lit up her nerves, any last vestiges of anxiety burning up completely in a wave of anticipation and lust. She rolled her hips against him again and he let out a sound that started as a moan and ended closer to growl, dropping the hand cupping her face to reach underneath her dress and grip her ass instead, squeezing her flesh as he drew her closer to him. He broke away from her lips and licked a sloppy line of open mouthed kisses up her neck, shifting slightly as he dragged his fingers from her ass, across her leg, up the soft skin of her inner thigh. He paused for a moment at the edge of her thigh, his fingertips the barest graze away from where she wanted his touch the most.

She let out a sound that was part whine, part moan, and felt his lips curve into a smile against her neck. He trailed his fingertips up her thigh and cupped her over her thong, pressing his palm against her, brushing his fingers over her as his hand came up then underneath the elastic. He inched his hand down, his fingers sliding along the wetness of her slit, exploring her damp folds. He breathed heavily into her skin, kissing down the slope of her neck.

She tilted her head back and moaned, turning her face away to give him better access to the lines of her neck as she lost herself to the feel of his fingers. Her gaze caught on the panel of numbers by the elevator door and she squinted, half-hazy with desire - then let out a breathy laugh.

“Marcus, you didn’t press a floor nu -.”

Before she could finish, he released her hands from above her head and reached over to press the button for top floor, then threaded his newly freed hand in her hair as she looped her arms around his neck.

“Found better things to do with my hands,” he murmured, his voice low and rough as he pressed two fingers against her clit and started rubbing slow, steady circles. She let out a low hum of pleasure, her fingers curling into the ends of his hair and tugging gently downward. He gave a short grunt of pleasure at the motion, his fingers continuing to rub her clit under her dress, firm and steady in a way that was rapidly building up waves of pleasure at the very center of her. She tangled her hands into his hair and pulled once, roughly, as she tipped her hips up against his hand. He gave a guttural groan and surged against her, moving his fingers along the heated silk of her folds, until he’d slipped one, then two fingers into her slowly. She let out a strangled gasp and locked eyes with him, his pupils blown wide and nearly black with desire, his fingers withdrawing from her and then slipping back in easily, her wetness completely coating his fingers.

She dug her fingers into his shoulder, the other scrambling for a hold in his hair and pulling hard. She moaned into his mouth as he brought his lips down roughly on hers, his fingers crooking inside her, pressing against her inner walls in a way that made her knees weak.

He broke off the kiss and braced his arm against her lower back, holding her up as he plunged his fingers back into her and began to steadily pump them in and out. She let her head fall forward onto his shoulder, pressing a wet kiss against his neck and grinding against his hand as he brushed the pad of his thumb against her clit. She bit down on his shoulder to keep herself from moaning loudly, and heard him let out a sound that was almost growl as he twisted his fingers inside of her.

“Fuck, Abby,” he ground out, a guttural rasp against her ear.

Her answering moan was cut short, ending as a sigh as the elevator slowed and lurched to a sudden stop. A loud burst of laughter sounded on the other side of the door and they both went still, Marcus’s dark eyes widening as he glanced down between them. She let out a harsh puff of air, half to dispel the haze of desire, half to keep herself from shouting aloud in frustration. He huffed out a half laugh and nodded in silent agreement before he kissed her quickly and withdrew his fingers from inside of her. He stepped back as she moved immediately to stand in front of him. His obvious hardness at her back made her swallow thickly, and she had to fist her hands in her dress to keep herself from reaching back and running her hands along the length of him.

She glanced at the panel of the elevator, mostly just to distract herself, and saw that they’d stopped at the 14th floor - just one below where they were headed. She breathed a sigh of relief just as the elevator dinged and the doors opened.

A group of four women - probably in their early 20s, as far as she could tell - bleary-eyed and obviously very, very drunk peered into the elevator, then tilted their head up at the arrow that was lit up above them.

“Oh shit,” one of them exclaimed loudly, “we pressed the wrong button - we need to go down to the lobby.” She gave Abby an apologetic look as her friends burst into laughter behind her. “Sorry!”

Abby smiled and waved her off.

“No problem.”

The girl tilted her head and looked closely at them, no doubt taking note, Abby thought, of her tangled hair and kiss-swollen lips. A look of comprehension dawned on the younger girl’s face, a wide grin suddenly splitting her features.

“Hey, have a fun rest of the night you two!” She chirped out as the elevator doors closed back on them.

She leaned back against Marcus, her ass brushing against his erection as she did. He drew in a sharp intake of breath as his hands came up to grip her arms.

“Abby.”

The gutted out sound of her name from his lips flared her arousal even more. She tipped her head back to look up at him and gave him a smile she knew was positively sinful.

“That girl told us to have a fun night.”

He returned her smile with one of his own, his eyes dark with desire and promise. He dipped his head and pressed his mouth against her ear.

“Oh, I plan to make it a very fun night for the both of us.”


End file.
